


Icy love

by starspangledgirlwithaplan



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ice God Victor, Love God Yuuri, M/M, god!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8644903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledgirlwithaplan/pseuds/starspangledgirlwithaplan
Summary: The strong would survive.The weak would be rooted out._
	In a world where all the gods are mixed together, Victor is the god of ice. Yuuri is the god of eros. Victor, slowly turning into his domain, decides to help Yuuri. For himself, of course. Because whenever he’s around Yuuri, the ice starts to melt.





	

Once, a long time ago, gods were born. There were African gods, Greek and Roman gods, Japanese, Chinese, Russian Gods, Norse, Egyptian, Native American gods.

There were so many gods, that there were problems. 100 suns would rise instead of 1, a person could fall in and out love with 12 different people at the same time and a wave would freeze and return to the ocean.

Something had to be done. So, all the kings and queens of all the gods met. And they decided to merge. Instead of being divided by nationality, they would be divided by type. Instead of Greek gods banding together, the sea gods would. They would share the responsibilities and rewards, and keep the planet balanced.

So, they lived in four different “countries”. Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall (the season gods grew very prideful) and lived (mostly) peacefully.

Of course, with all the major gods, there were several minor gods for everything. So they continued to branch out and branch out until there was a god for every color, a god for every animal, and a god for every feeling.

And more gods kept being born, so once you had proved yourself to not be of use anymore, you would be replaced. There would be other opportunities to win back your title, but you would lose all respect and some of your power.

The strong would survive.

The weak would be rooted out.

 

Victor Nikiforov was the god of ice. He had had that title for 11,000 years now, since he was 16,000 years old. He had been challenged many times, by the gods of cold and the gods of the winter wind and the gods of snow. But he kept his title, always coming out on top.

He had used to be a love god, but that was so long ago no one remembered what position he had held, and he would not tell anyone. Whenever someone asked, he would, with a wink, reply to check Russian mythology, and then guess who he could be.

Everyone always guessed wrong.

(besides, they whispered, his heart had grown so cold and frozen, that he wasn’t suited for _love_.)

He was idolized by Yuri Plisetsky, a minor god of love who ruled over Agape, unconditional love. People whispered behind his back that he’d be more suited to a god of war, or a god of anger, given how often he grew furious. (they never said it to his face). They whispered that, since he was also from the bitter cold of Russia, he was in love with Victor. (they were the same people who received his anger). They whispered that it was such a shame that he wanted to become an ice god, with such a pretty face, with such delicate features.

No one could guess why he wanted to become the ice god. With his fiery temper and brazen acts, he would be more suited to fire, not the cool rejection and fluidness of ice.

Millennia ago, Victor had promised Yuri that if he won the Grand Prix competition, that he would help him at least become the god of frost. So, Yuri worked hard and went to the god of icicles, Yakov, to learn the secrets of winter. And he went to Mila, the goddess of Ludus, playful love, to try to learn the secrets of love. He might as well dominate love before ice, he thought, 

Since he was still in his 15,000 thousands, he could not join the Grand Prix, and had to settle for the Junior Grand Prix.

 

The Grand Prix was a huge event.

Every year, the gods had a competition to see who could influence the humans the most. They had rules. Once you killed a human directly, you were out. (indirectly was ok). Once you hurt another god directly, you were out. (indirectly was also ok).

The gods who participated (most everyone) would form into groups of 4 for the smaller competitions and 6 for the larger ones to compete. Once you were out, you could not mess with the game, or else face serious charges.

Another component was the bond. Throughout the competition, there would be the competitor and their mentor, the mancine and their ventoris. They would form a bond at the beginning of the competition, and hold it until they got eliminated. The bond would allow them to build on each other, and be able to access their shared pool of traits. If the mancine needed strength to win, they could take it from their ventoris. And vice versa. 

The mancine would be the one to do all the challenges, while the ventoris would guide them, and mentor them and protect them from harm.

To form the bond, they would literally tear off a piece of their “soul” (essence) and let it be a part of the other’s. _

For the past couple years, Victor had won every Grand Prix with his ventoris, Yakov. He conjured amazing snowstorms, and encased buildings in ice. He turned all water to ice, and built terrifying peaks. Everyone had come to accept that he would win, and just grappled for second place.

Victor’s palace grew laden with prizes (fantastic magical objects and chests of gold, and so much glory) and his stack of medals grew higher until he thought he could hear his icy heart begin to crack under the weight.

Where had his enthusiasm gone? Where had the rush of winning fallen to? Where had his motives gone?

He strengthened the ice surrounding his bitter heart until it filled up his ribcage with it’s protection (prison). The ice grew down to his liver, making his pale skin deathly and his gray hair silver. It grew down to his fingers, and they turned blue (at first he tried to hide it with thick gloves but he grew to not care).

He was made of ice, so he was going to crack.

And all the prizes and medals kept piling up, kept weighing down upon him and forming cracks.

Ice crystals grew from his shoulders and his waist, from the tops of his feet and from the tops of his hands. When reporters asked about the new growths, he answered with cold cold eyes and a practiced smile. “They’re pretty, aren’t they? Do you like them?”

“Oh yes, very much. How stunning, Victor, especially those flakes underneath your eyes."

“Thank you. Now, my theme for the next competition is heartbreak. I will try to surprise you all!” he said with that charming charming accent. (he knew that he would surprise no one.

it didn’t stop him from trying, pulling and twisting his body in different ways and muttering different words to try to make something different.)

He was a master, so of course he won. _

After, he smiled and bit into the medal (it tasted like nothing (like ice)), he threw on his winter god jacket (see, the press? relatable! patriotic!) and walked alongside Yakov and Yuri. the connection had been severed when his lips touched the gold, so he was trying to ignore the pain of having a warm soul, and getting his ice back in return.

He turned, and saw chocolate eyes framed by square glasses. A small part of him short circuited, and a spark burned away the ice from the tip of his pinky finger. (he didn’t notice) Oh yeah, one of his competitors. He seemed to be doing alright, until the finals. He literally crashed and burned, causing a small fire in the stands.

He was a love god, right? Victor couldn’t remember his domain or his na- oh right. It was Yuuri, just like Yuri. He walked past him.

“Yuuri, about your free performance. Your step sequence-”

Yuri cut him off. “I won, so who cares?”

Remind him again why he put up with him?

He stopped his feet, and turned to Yakov. “So, what were you thinking about for the winter competition? Continuing with the theme of heartbreak, maybe we could do upbeat, cheerful, bouncing back from it?”

“Maybe, or we could do another like your performance today. You could do-”

“We also need to plan my senior debut. I plan on taking you down.”

Victor smirked. “Sure, Котенок.” He could still feel those eyes on him, so he turned around. He smiled. “A commemorative photo?”

Yuuri froze. “Sure.” Victor continued. Because of course everyone was his fan. He couldn’t get a competitor who honestly resented him who could come this far. They seemed to shrivel up at his success.

He expected him to blush and stutter out that, yes, he’d be honored. Then take 10,000 pictures and post them everywhere. That’s what fans usually did.

Instead, Yuuri, without even a blush, turned away and started walking.

Victor ignored how with each step, the ice that had melted grew back. And then some. _

Victor practiced and practiced his magic routine. He may be the god of ice, but he has to learn something else just to surprise someone. Might as well try to surprise everyone while he’s at it.

His ice powers grew, and he filled rooms of his palace with ice. All of his fingers and all of his toes were a sky blue shot through with silver. He started wearing gloves again.

And he tried to care, he really did.

He just couldn’t.

So he trained and trained and trained, making his body stronger and quicker and better.

You see, low scale magic can be done with just your hands, almost effortlessly. Higher scale magic, that requires rituals and spells and magic dances. Victor dabbles in rituals, and excels at spells, but his specialty is magic dances.

He can take a dance from any part of the world, and use it for the feats he does in the Grand Prix. But his favorite dances are the ones from his home country. He takes the ones his grandmother taught him during the long winters, and incorporates his personal style on it. He adds jumps and twists and turns, and the soft chant of spells.

Today, he’s covering a large evergreen tree in ice. He’s outside under the snow- the gods of the seasons enjoy ordering around the weather gods- dressed in loose clothing. Sweatpants, and a v-neck. No shoes, but he does have a grey sweatshirt, which he tosses off. Finally, he pulls off his black leather gloves. The blue has spread part way down his palm.

He shuts his eyes, and takes a deep breathe. Then, he opens his eyes, and shakes his hair away from his eyes.

He drops to the ground, and spins his legs under him and starts to say the spell. Then, he shifts to kicking his legs out in front of himself. Ice shoots up from the ground and starts to shoot up with every kick. It grows together until it’s a solid wall around the trunk..

He falls on his back, then props himself up and starts kicking again. The ice starts spreading out thicker and thicker. He jumps up and takes a few steps back before leaping into the air. He gets in 1, 2, 3, 4 rotations and then falls, where he twirls into another spin. The wall balloons out, and gets it around the branches.

He jumps up, and lands in a crouch, where he shifts his knees from side to side, making the ice grow around the branches. He’s up again, into another jumping twirl and some more verses of the spell. He puts his arms perpendicular to his body, and kicks his legs up behind him. He drops down into a ball, and then spreads out and up, down up, down up, down up. The ice is near the top, and he sighs.

Then he claps his hands against his knee, and the ice pushes over the tree to give it a cold crown.

The whole thing is over in less than two minutes.

He makes himself smile, because it seems he has attracted a crowd, then he picks up his clothes, and heads in. Inside, he can practice some wind magic from Lilia, goddess of the winter wind. _

If he fails, he will pick himself up.

If he can’t make something work, he will try again.

If he loses focus, he will pinch himself.

He has to be perfect.

He has to surprise somebody. _

 

Victor sits on his couch with his dog, Makkachin, and props up his legs. He runs a hand through Makkachin’s warm, soft, curly fur and unlocks his phone. There, there is a text from Yakov. 

 

YAKOV: Vitya, this is all over. Watch it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ 

 

Victor taps on it. There is a boy- is that the Yuuri from last year’s Grand Prix? He’s standing on a frozen lake, wearing a black jacket and black pants. He seems to have put on weight, but he wears the same pair of glasses.

“Please watch, Yuuko.” he says, and there is muffled laughter from behind the camera. The view swings over to a pretty girl with brown hair and eyes. Judging by the way she’s hovering over the earth on a giant snowflake, Victor thinks she might be the goddess of snowflakes.

The view swings back over to Yuuri, who starts into a dance. A very familiar dance. His is almost as good as Victor’s. The jumps are painful for him to watch, but . . . his step sequence is amazing. His body moves like it’s a note of the music that’s playing in the background. His technical elements might be off, like that jump he just did, but the expression and the way he moves. . .

Screw this. He doesn’t think that Yuuri’s a god of love (i mean look at his face), but on the other hand, a god of music or dance or expression . . .

His hands start feeling warm, but they cool when the video ends. He frantically clicks the replay button, and discovers something strange. As long as he keeps his eyes on Yuuri, his ice starts to melt.

He sends Makkachin to get his laptop, and pulls up the video there. Then, he texts Yakov back.

 

ME: his jumps are off, but his expression is good

 

No, it’s great.

 

YAKOV: Just a silly imitation

 

Victor types “Yuuri love god” into the search bar in his phone.

 

ME: yeah

 

Victor starts browsing wind tickets to Hasetsu. 

 

YAKOV: What have you been practicing? What did you decide on for next season? 

 

Victor buys a wind ticket to Hasetsu.

 

ME: something new

 

Victor starts packing. 

 

YAKOV: Like what?

 

And he’s off. 

 

YAKOV: Like what, Victor?

 

YAKOV: Vitya?

 

YAKOV: Victor. Answer me.

 

ME: i’m walking to the wind station.

 

YAKOV: Which one?

 

YAKOV: Victor, what are you doing?  
_

Victor walks along the snow covered lane, his suitcase rolling behind him. “Vitya.”

“Vitya!”

He turns, and there’s Yakov. Huffing and puffing like an ancient one instead of the 60,000 year old god he is. He’s in a thick jacket, and he’s cradling his glowing phone. “Vitya, what are you doing?” he asks.

“Something new,” Victor says as he stomps forward through the snow. He drops his suitcase, and throws his arms around his ventoris. He turns to his mother tongue, and says, “Watch for me.”. He pauses. “I’ll miss you.”

“Very well. I’ll trust your judgement.”

He smiles, and gives a wave, before picking up his suitcase. Then, he walks into the dark night until he disappears. _

The wind service was good, and the east wind had partnered with the summer wind, so it was warm as well.

He picks up his suitcase, and heads to the moving company. He gives them the location of where his things should go, and starts to walk out. Halfway there, he notices something. There is a poster of Yuuri on the wall. He is in the middle of a dance, and is wearing all black.

Hasetsu is on the very outskirts of the winter domain, right next to fall. It used to be a prime relaxing spot, but then the gods did as the gods do, and lost interest. Shame, really, that he hasn’t been here before. It really is quite lovely.

He trudges along before reaching the Yu-topia Akatsuki inn. Since it is run by the god of inns, and the goddess of hot springs, he thinks it might be a lovely trip.  


“Hello!” he greets the short brown haired woman inside the inn.

“Hello! Welcome to Yu-topia! How long will you be staying?”

Victor smiles. “A while. Can I have a room?”

“You’ll have to wait a little for that, but you can take a bath in the hot springs! I can get you a towel and a robe, and keep your things here.”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” So Victor leaves his things, and is allowed to open Makkachin’s dog crate so they can run around. He takes the offered items, and walks past the minor gods, who are gaping, to a hot spring. He hesitantly dips in a toe, but his ice doesn’t melt at all, so he steps in.

He’s soaking with a towel over his head when Yuuri pushes in, puffing in a huge brown jacket. Victor relishes that Yuuri looks like he just shot someone (he finally surprised somebody!) and that his fingertips are beginning to melt again.

He stands up.

“Yuuri, starting today, I’m your ventoris. I’ll make you win the Grand Prix final.”

Yuuri shoots back, and Victor smiles.

This is going to be _fun._

**Author's Note:**

> For the dance, I used this video for reference:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oBqlfKtqTgc


End file.
